Opulence
by TBM1
Summary: An addled Courier left for dead, blindly seeking revenge. A regretful wanderer with a taste for anarchy and a mind full of shame. An orphan grasping for revenge for those who are long gone. And a serial killer with a taste for "justice." When the four of them come to a crossroads, the Mojave Wasteland will never be the same.
1. Chapter 1

**_Note: So I decided to try something a little different here. This is a different style of writing for me because I do not often write in first person or with differing POVs. But I'm messing with it. Basically each number signals the chapter number but also a POV change. I tried to make it as easy to understand as possible, but feel free to ask questions. Enjoy!_**

1

I suppose I should have expected that the culmination of my life's actions would have led me here. The NCR troops that cracked me over the skull with a shock baton made sure to very violently arrest me, berating me the entire time as well. I was quite literally thrown into this 6' by 8' cell, the walls bleak and oppressing, littered with graffiti from those who had spent time here before.

I memorized their names, the MPs who did this to me. They were a hindrance, just a slow to my progress. I wasn't too worried about it, because I knew that I would get them eventually. Dubbed "The Freeside Fiend", I was less than amused by such a foolish title, but it seemed to have an effect on the of the guards here. I was in segregation because I was deemed high risk, but I had several notes passed under my door to make me aware of a plan to take over the prison. Some man named Samuel Cooke seemed to really want my help in this. It was lost on me as to how I would do anything from the hell hole that was my cell.

My days dragged in NCRCF. You could only work out so much, and reading the same book over and over really was a fucking bore. Escaping grew more and more appealing, and I found myself rubbing the handle of my little plastic toothbrush on the wall until the tip of it was deadly, satisfyingly sharp.

I was sitting on my bunk, fiddling with my little shank until I heard my door start to screech open. I shoved it in the small hole I had made in my mattress without a second thought, jumping down off of my bed to look at the officer that opened my cell. His name was Williams, unfamiliar to me. "Moretti, you've got a visitor."

I arched an eyebrow at him, pulling my blood red hair back into a ponytail. "Visitor?"

"Yeah. Are you fucking stupid? Don't know what that means?" He motioned for me to come to him and turn around.

I smiled, and did so like a good little girl. "No sir, Williams." I would remember his face, and I would remember it even better when I cut it off of his skull.

I had never had a visitor. Mostly because I did not have any friends, nor did I have family that cared about me. Once I ran away, I had been written off. No search parties, no missing person posters. Not that I was really shedding any fucking tears either. The visitor room was surprisingly open and warm, there were actual windows with sunlight coming in. I felt my blue eyes narrow a little from the shock of the light.

Looking around the room, I saw multiple people that appeared to be waiting for other prisoners; there was no way to tell who was waiting for me. Williams shuffled me awkwardly along in my leg irons, my hands secured down by my waist. He plopped me down in front of a rather handsome young man with a little more force than necessary before stomping away.

The young man had sparkles in his eyes when he looked at me; it was unsettling. "Who are you? Did I eat your mom or dad or something?"

To my shock, he responded with a genuine laugh that made his eyes crinkle up at the edges. I leaned away a little, arching my eyebrow in confusion. His voice was low and smooth, with a accent that was typical of people from the Mojave. "The Freeside Fiend, in the flesh."

"That's me...woo." I gave my hands a little dramatic shake, like I was presenting myself in some grand fashion, my wrist irons jingling loudly. I had no clue why the hell this man was visiting me or what he wanted, but I didn't say much about it.

He pushed some of his hair back and away from his face and leaned a little closer to me, those blue eyes suddenly very sharp. I expected him to curse me for killing one of his loved ones, but instead his voice was low and urgent. "Look, I know you don't know me, but I know you. And I need your help."

I scoffed a little, cocking my head at him and fighting the urge to tell him to fuck right off, but I was slightly intrigued what some man would want with a serial killer. "You're serious? What the fuck could I possibly help you with? And if you haven't noticed," I gestured about the room and at the guards, "I'm not exactly in any position to do anything more than sit and rot away at the moment."

He rolled his eyes a little and held up his hands in a gesture of painful obviousness. "Yeah yeah, that's very obvious to me, honey. I've got this all planned out, I've been hearing about your whole case for a while. You're perfect for what I need help with."

I was intrigued as to what his offer could possibly be. Freedom seemed to be a sure offer, at least I was hoping so. I hummed a little in thought, drumming my fingers on my knuckles under the table. "And what exactly do you need help with?"

He looked around a little, making sure the guards weren't listening too closely I assumed. "Look, I'm in a really fucked up position right now and I think you're the only one who can adequately handle this, um, job. I can give you more details another time, but it involves your...skill set."

I nodded slowly, smiling to myself. My heartbeat had picked up a little at the thought of being out of this hellhole and doing what I was intended to do. "And what exactly are you offering me in return?"

He paused for a moment, his sapphire eyes looking off to the side in thought. "Freedom. The chance to kill again. Whatever you want from me."

That was deliciously appealing. The thought of feeling the sun again, of tasting my prey, feeling my veins warm with adrenaline and psycho. However, I did not quite trust this strange man. "What's the catch?"

The blonde man's eyes were open and genuine. "There's no catch. These people...they, they ruined my life. They need to feel the pain that I have, tenfold. You can do whatever you want to them, I don't care. Burn them alive, cut their fingers off joint by joint. Whatever you see fit." His voice was breaking a little; he was begging.

I smiled at him a little. I didn't really feel much sympathy for him. I didn't know him from a hole in the ground, but I couldn't deny the chance at freedom again. I didn't have much faith in Samuel Cooke, whoever the hell he was. It was looking like this stranger could be my best option for getting out of here. "I'll do it."

The blonde man looked like he wanted to do a backflip. He struggled to keep his composure for a few moments, smiling like he had just won the lottery. "You won't regret this. I'll be in touch."

With those words, the guards were stepping back in, and it occurred to me that I hadn't even gotten his name. I wasn't entirely sure that he knew my name either, or my alias at least. It was too late to ask however, because Williams was already grumbling and pulling me away, back to my hell.

2

About a little over two weeks had passed since I had seen the Freeside Fiend. I did not know her by name, all I had was her prisoner number. R4-269. It had been a bitch to get even that, but luckily for me I had a silver tongue and a few stolen caps. Bribing an NCR soldier to get some more information had been easy enough, but setting up the visit was terribly complex, even for me. Visit number two already had my stomach doing nervous little flips and my hands felt sweaty. I spoke to the gentlemen at Mick and Ralph's and had a nano explosive wired up.

The thing was tiny, about the size of a bottle cap, but they said it should be powerful enough to blast a hole in the wall big enough for my new friend to climb through. It was remote detonated, I would instruct her to wait about thirty minutes and then place it inside of her toilet. I would hit the button, the shitter would go kaboom, and she should be able to make her way outside after that. I had stashed some bolt cutters outside so that I could cut a hole in the fence, and escort her out.

I knew that if this backfired we would both be fucked, but I could not rest knowing that the people who had killed Jodie were still out there, living their lives happily. The explosive was shoved into a tiny pocket that I had stitched into the waist of my pants, and despite how tiny it was, it felt like it weighed a ton. Thank god that the old prison's metal detectors didn't work anymore.

My pat down was quick, and I struggled to remain completely composed for it. I felt like my eyes were screaming "Don't mind in the bomb in my waistband officer!"

"Reason for your visit today, sir?" The guard pulled out a clipboard, his eyes looking about as interested in me as a kid watching paint dry.

I swallowed thickly, completely forgetting what I had said last time. "She's uh, she's my...fiance. Yes that, I'm here to propose. It's our anniversary, you see?"

The guard gave me a simple, "Uh huh. Good luck with that one."

I mentally wiped the sweat from my brow as I headed inside. There was a short hallway and a guard posted up on the other side of the door. My thin fingers worked down to the side of my waistband, struggling to pull the little device out without dropping it onto the floor. My eyes, didn't leave the man at the door, but he wasn't looking at me, he just stood by the propped open door. I shoved the bomb into my mouth so quickly that I nearly swallowed the fucking thing.

As I stepped inside, the guard slammed the door behind me and I took my seat at the table. She wasn't here, yet and I felt like with every minute I waited, the taste of metal in my mouth became more and more overwhelming.

After what felt like an eternity, my favorite serial killer came shuffling in, completely covered in chains. I stood up, trying to look as open and inviting as I could, holding my arms out wide as she shuffled up to me. She stood there for a moment, looking me up and down like I was a super mutant.

"Hello, baby! I missed you so much, you look as beautiful as ever," I hugged her tightly, it was the most awkward feeling in my entire life.

I pulled back and she looked at me like I was a fucking retard. "What the hell-" I cut her off quickly with a kiss, feeling my stomach tighten uncomfortably. The bomb worked its way to the middle of my tongue, and I quickly slipped it inside her mouth, fighting the urge to scream. The bomb was transferred easier than I thought, and when I pulled away, the redhead looked like she wanted to cut my head off.

Forcing a convincing smile, I motioned for her to sit down. I could see that she was struggling with the thing as well, either that or she was trying to not vomit on the table. I kept my voice low, "I'm so fucking sorry. There was no other way, I told the guard that I'm here to propose."

Her blue eyes were wide with what I assumed was rage, but she didn't speak. "Throw that thing in your toilet when you get back, and get away from it as much as you can. I'm giving it thirty minutes from the time you leave this room until it blows."

Those eyes went even wider, and she looked a little panicked. "Don't worry, it won't go off until I hit the button, then you just run like hell and I will be at the fence in an NCR uniform."

She nodded slowly, before speaking carefully and slightly muffled. "What is your name?"

"Ace Sinclair. And you?"

"Call me Red." With that, the guards were pulling her off again, but I knew that I would see her soon enough.

…

Thirty minutes later I was clipping open the prison fence in my hefty NCR gear. It was heavy and uncomfortable, making me wonder how the hell these men did it every day. I was already sweating like a pig, my unnaturally blonde hair sticking to my forehead. I shoved the bolt cutters quickly back into my duffel bag, and checked my battered little pocket watch. It had been about thirty five minutes. The little detonator met my fingertips quickly and I took a deep breath. What if she was too close? Or if it didn't go off? _Here's hoping that she isn't taking a piss._

I mashed the button down with a small yelp, expecting an ear splitting explosion; but was met with nothing. I looked back at the prison, waiting for anything. I hit it again, and then again before I was smashing the thing against my hand. My heart felt like it was in my throat, and then suddenly I felt the Earth tremble a little beneath my feet. I looked back at the prison again, and saw a hole in the wall barely big enough for someone's head and shoulders. Bright red hair peeked through, and then she was shimmying her way outside.

Red came sprinting across the prison yard like a fucking track runner, and it suddenly occurred to me that this was really happening. "Oh fuck, oh Jesus." I gripped my 9mm Submachine Gun tightly, motioning for her to run faster.

As if on cue, alarms started blaring like it was the end of the world all over again, and guards in the watchtowers were opening fire. Bullets sent up little plumes of desert dirt around Red, and she nearly tripped and fell flat on her face. I was motioning wildly for her to hurry, making small sounds of panic. "Fucking run, please, Red!" I held the fence open, firing some potshots at the guards that were trying to take the woman that would avenge Jodie away from me.

I don't think I actually hit any of them, but it was enough to stop them from firing for a few moments at least. The redhead ducked through the hole quickly, the hem of her shirt getting caught as she struggled through. I pulled her hard, the cloth tearing off onto the fence.

I looked up in panic as she scrambled to her feet, seeing a few guards making their way across the prison yard, shouting loudly and training weapons on us. "Dammit, we need to get the fuck out of here now." Red's breath was labored, and her eyes were wide and wild. She gave me a rough shove to move me from my shock, I nearly fell over but it did the trick. We set off running away from the prison, making our way up a small hill and into the desert.

I was sweating like a whore in church already, and I struggled to try to tug the jacket off without dropping my duffel bag of supplies. I tripped over the large boots that encased my feet, and fell flat on my face, forcing all of the air out of my lungs. Red looked back at me and it seemed that she was in thought for a moment. _If you fucking leave me…_

My eyes seemed to communicate just that because she gave me a look of exasperation before spinning on her heel and hauling me to my feet quite easily. I blinked at her in shock for a moment, to which she gave a cocky grin and a wink before setting off running again.

…

After running for what felt like hours, we found ourselves looking out on Jean Skydiving. Some fiends puttered about around the small shack, working on their makeshift camp. I was completely soaked in sweat, my hair sticking uncomfortably to my forehead. Red wasn't much better, her correctional outfit nearly soaked through. We quickly drained the two bottles of water that I had, but the desert sun was completely unrelenting; beating down on us oppressively.

Red wiped some sweat away from her mouth, eyeing the fiends almost hungrily. "Alright, so I'm going to fashion a few weapons and take these assholes out. I can handle it on my own if you would rather hang back and observe what exactly you're buying here."

I shook my head in confusion a little. "Fashion a weapon? What the hell are you talking about? Just take my gun." I pushed the handle of my submachine gun to her, but she shoved it away.

"No guns. Not with NCR right up our asses. Plus, I prefer to get a little closer than that." I arched my eyebrow at her and watched her stroll over to a small tree that was struggling its way out of the dust. She snapped off three arm length pieces of branch, and scraped around in the debris of a car wreck until she found a rather large shard of glass and a few pieces of metal. Ripping a few cables out of the car, she crouched back down beside me and began her work.

She snapped at the glass until it was a point and affixed it to the end of the stick before doing the same with her little metal shards. I raised my eyebrow. "Spears? Really?"

Red stood suddenly, facing the fiends with a sharp determination in her eye. A cocky smirk was flashed at me as she pulled the thing back with her right arm and used her left hand as a sight. "No dumbass, a javelin."

The javelin was thrown with such deadly accuracy that I couldn't help but gasp a little as the projectile punctured one of the men's ribcages with a sickening crunch that I could hear from how far away I was. I covered my mouth with my hands as the man collapsed like a sack of bricks, blood staining the Earth. "Oh Jesus…"

Her eyes were wild with fire, and she let out a laugh quite unlike anything I had ever heard in my life. She wrenched a piece of glass out of the car's windshield before jumping onto the roof on the car. The remaining four fiends looked up from their fallen comrade's corpse with expressions of rage and confusion.

At that moment, I was a little terrified. This bitch was actually insane, thinking she could take down four armed people with some trash. I gripped my gun tightly, ready to take down anyone that got too close.

Red launched herself at them like a bullet fired from a gun, skewering one of the men right through the throat before he had much time to react, and he fell quickly, hitting the dirt and gagging on his own blood. One of the remaining three rushed her with a tire iron, which she dodged quickly, spinning on her heel so that she was behind the man. The javelin punched its way right through his chest, and she twisted it as he fell, a terrifying smirk on her mouth. The remaining two raiders looked at each other in shock.

One held a laser rifle, and the other a woman with a battered looking sawed off. Laser rifle decided that he wasn't having any of this shit, and immediately set out pulling the trigger as quickly as he could. Red jumped to roll behind the building, but one of the shots hit her in the leg. I could see her face twist up in pain, but she didn't make a sound. Laser rifle took this opportunity to reload, so she peeked around the corner, launching the last javelin like it was nothing. It tore into his face with such brutality I could barely watch.

My eyes were glued to the violence that was unfolding before me. It was like watching a deathclaw take down Brahmin; horrifying and disgusting, but for some macabre reason you can't tear your eyes away. She was examining her leg, and I could see that her pants were scorched and her flesh was an angry crimson.

It seemed to just motivate her more however, and she tossed down the piece of glass that had been serving as her knife, opting instead for some sort of shank she pulled from her pocket. I narrowed my eyes in confusion a little. Sawed off was cautiously creeping her way towards the side of the shack where Red was taking cover.

As she rounded the corner, Redlunged at her, grabbing the barrel and pointing it away to the side. The gun fired loudly, and their struggle continued. With a loud grunt, she shoved the gun hard enough that the grip of it whipped the woman in the face with enough pressure to make her nose start spewing blood. The gun fell out of her hands at that, and she drove her shank into the woman's neck once, then twice, then three times before she met the dust of the Wastes.

I came out from cover on shaky legs, approaching Red slowly like she would kill me next. She turned to look at me, some wild fire blazing in those sapphire eyes. They were icy and sharp, hungry and unhinged, colder than the ocean sinking a body. "So, now you're aware of what you're taking on." She crouched down, wrenching her shank out of the woman's throat.

I squinted at it. "Is...is that a toothbrush?"

She examined it for a moment, arching her eyebrow a little and giving me a dismissive shrug. "Yeah. Made it in prison. Was gonna use it to kill the asshole that escorted me to and from our little visits. By the way, I vomited after you kissed me."

I rolled my eyes dramatically. "It's not like I enjoyed it either, darling."

"So you claim. Gay boy." She laughed at me before crouching down and examining the raider's armor. To my shock, she began removing the woman's clothing.

"Whoa, okay," I looked away as the raider's bare breasts met the air. "What the hell are you doing?"

She looked back at me like I was mentally incapacitated. "Do you expect me to run around in a uniform that literally has NCRCF plastered all over it?"

"Okay. I can respect this."

To my shock, she began to change right out the in open with no shame. I gasped a little, turning my back to her. "Oh Jesus…" I dared a glance back at her after a few moments and was surprised by how well the armor fit her. Tight brown pants and a matching brown corset, with a spiked armor piece on her shoulder. She let her hair down, and combed at it with her fingers a little before looking about as if she was searching for something.

I watched her curiously as she cut into some sort of cactus type plant and began squeezing some sort of thick goop out of it. "What the fuck?"

"Shut it. Now. I have to concentrate." She made her way over to the wrecked car and used the remains of the side mirror to start styling her hair into two large Mohawks that stood proudly towards the sky. Her eyes were narrowed with focus, the tip of her tongue sticking out of her mouth a little.

She looked at me with a wild grin, her bloody shank gripped tightly in her hands that were coated in crimson blood that was not her own. "I feel fucking amazing."

I was completely in awe from the strange woman. The look fit her so well. "You look...fucking insane. I'm absolutely eating it the hell up, Red."

She strutted her way back over to the corpses with an exaggerated sway in her step. "Bitch, I know." She smiled at me cockily and we both laughed.

A quick search of the bodies turned up a few useful items. Small amounts of varied ammo, a few caps, some bottles of dirty water, a stimpak, and last but not least some psycho; which Red immediately stuffed into a small bag that she had plundered from near their campfire.

"We can sell that for a good amount I bet. Get some caps and we can start making our way to Freeside." I nodded in approval.

Red gave me that signature look that seemed to question my mental capacity. "Um, no? This is mine."

That took me a little off guard for some reason, but at the same time I felt like I shouldn't be surprised. "Oh. Alright, whatever you need really." I awkwardly shoved my hands into my pockets, rocking back and forth slightly on my heels. I was a little nervous, but I was also the happiest I had been in a long time. Red was a bonafide psychopath, icy and blood thirsty; I was imaging the looks on everyone's faces when we burst in together, locked and loaded. But don't get me wrong, I didn't want Red to make it fast at all. I had heard the reports about her enough to know how much a sadist she was, and she was perfect.


	2. Chapter 2

3

The Strip. The one place where nothing seemed to matter to me. I could forget about it all, the Khans, the NCR, mom and dad, and that poor little Courier that Benny nearly fucking killed. The fucking bastard tricked me, just like he tricked the other Khans. He swore up and down that she used to work for him at the Tops as a dealer and that she had stolen the platinum chip. Me, being the fucking idiot that I am, believed him; but in my defence, we all did. Even Jessup, who had never lead me wrong.

Well it all turned out that he tried to murder her in cold blood because the chip wasn't just a chip apparently. I had no damn clue what the thing was, but according to Mr. New Vegas, the woman had been carving a bloody swathe across the Wastes in her attempts to find that asshole in the ugly checkered suit. I didn't blame her; I had a similar goal in mind.

I spent my days wandering about Freeside and The Strip, waiting to catch even a glimpse of him, but he had been hiding very low for a while now. Even The Tops was completely devoid of any trace of the slimy bastard. The Chairmen were extremely tight-lipped, no matter how many caps I shoved their way. It was like Benny had never existed; even Swank had stopped talking about him.

My pursuit of him was no longer so intense, but I would catch my brown eyes absentmindedly scanning the casino for him while I cleaned them out. Gambling was my getaway, my vice, my muse. It gave me a little thrill as I raked in all the chips; and it was always so easy because people weren't at all intimidated by me. At 5'3, 120 pounds and with my caramel skin and honey blonde hair, no one assumed I would be the one to clean everyone out.

It was close to ten o'clock as I strutted my way toward the tops. It was my favorite casino for a few reasons; I knew everyone by name, they knew me, and Swank had a hard on for me even though he knew I wouldn't like him unless he was about a c cup. Despite my sexual inclination he would still toss some caps my way occasionally, to "buy myself something pretty."

I wore a low cut white dress, that stopped just above my knee and showed enough of my humble chest to turn some heads. With matching heels, I had no doubt that I would find a woman to go home with tonight. And yet the thought of sharing one night of passion with a stranger depressed me greatly. I hadn't been in a proper relationship since Clover left, and that was years ago by now.

It was embarrassing to still be pining over someone that had long since moved onto bigger and better things. She was tired of fleeing the Legion, and wanted to go somewhere safer. DC it was. And she left without telling me. She knew I wasn't going to leave Nevada; I had ties to the Khans and I wasn't going to flee from some shitheels like the NCR or the Legion. This was my home and I would die here.

I often wondered what she was up to now. If she was safe and happy, and if she found what she was looking for. I was over the bitterness and was now trying to just move on. Gambling and a thirst for revenge kept my heart warm, and I was just fine with that.

As I stepped into The Tops I was, as usual, approached by Swank as soon as I was about five steps in. "Hey hey there, Honey! How is my favorite gambling queen today?" He leaned against the desk, his hair shiny under the lights with all the gel that he had in it. His smile was wide and alluring, I'm sure any other female would love his attention, but he just wasn't for me.

I flashed him a winning smile and his cheeks colored a little. "Swank, how's business? I'm assuming Benny is still hiding in a gutter somewhere."

His eyes traced my dress with curiosity, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes at him. "Yeah...haven't seen hide or hair of him, babydoll; and business is good. We got a new performer, and she's been drawing in a bit of a crowd lately. You wouldn't fuckin' believe who it is."

I glanced up towards The Aces Theater with an eyebrow arched in curiosity. "Oh?"

Swank leaned close, like he was giving my classified information. "It is The Courier...you know? The one from the radio?"

My jaw dropped and my heart felt like it had stopped in my chest, all the blood draining from my face. Swank had no clue of who she was to me obviously, I wasn't even sure if he knew that Benny had tried to murder the poor girl. Struggling to keep my cool, I swallowed thickly. "Wow. That's...something. Why is she here?"

He suddenly looked very nervous, glancing about the casino like someone would kill him if he shared too much info. For all I knew, maybe someone would. Vegas was full of snakes and backstabbing assholes. "Look, Honey, Benny did that girl wrong. Very wrong. She wants him dead, and I honestly can't blame her. She took up a gig here to get close to him, in case he shows his mug again. She's using a fake name, no one knows who she is." He nudged me a little with a suggestive grin. "Haven't you heard, "The enemy of my enemy is my best friend?" Well she's cute as hell; gorgeous even. Maybe she can be your new best friend, if you catch my drift."

I felt like I was going to be sick. The woman was probably going to shoot me on sight. Part of me wanted to run, say fuck Benny and get the hell out of Vegas; but I felt like I owed her. She needed to know that the Khans were not to be blamed for any of it. I needed to redeem myself. "Maybe I should go talk to her, see what the deal is with her and Benny." My voice stayed steady somehow, but my legs felt like jello.

Swank winked at me. "Go get 'em tiger. And not to be nosey either, Honey, but you never told me what you wanted Benny dead for either."

I was already off, strutting up towards the theater. I looked back over my shoulder at him, "He tricked me into helping him do this courier dirty."

Swank's grin dropped as fast as my heart did. I looked away, my eyes locked on the door. There was a sign by the door, advertising the courier. _Friday and Saturdays, only at The Aces Theater; Lana Leigh._

My heart was pounding out of my chest, my hands impossibly sweaty. I was a normally unshakable woman, and after everything I had been through in my life, not a lot scared me, but I was absolutely terrified to meet her. If this was where my life was going to come to an end; so be it.

I wrenched open the door and wandered inside, greeted by one of the most perfect looking women I had ever seen up on the stage. It was almost impossible to tell that it was the same woman. When I last saw the courier, she was a sorry sight. Her clothing covered in dirt and mud and blood, her eyes puffy from crying. And then she was dead, at least that is what we thought. Two rounds to the head, and her face was soaked in her own blood, the same crimson spattering the dust of the Mojave before we tossed her into a shallow grave like she was trash, not knowing she was still breathing somehow.

And here she was, perfect and pristine, like nothing ever happened. Her blonde hair was loose about her shoulders, hiding half of her face. She wore elbow length white gloves as her fingers danced elegantly across the ivories of an old piano. Her creamy white strapless dress hugged to her humble bosom, a long slit going up the side to expose one of her long legs. " _Play the guitar, play it again, My Johnny."_

A voice low and sultry, smooth like silk, but smoky with seduction. I could barely believe I was in the same room as her, and I thanked God that she was still alive. I had heard the song a million times before, but nothing compared to hearing The Courier sing it. I had cold chills up my arms as I made my way through the maze of tables to sit down.

She looked up at me, a single sapphire eye meeting my own and making a chill shoot down my spine. I expected her to stand then and there, knocking over her piano bench and to fill my skull with holes, but instead she gave me a warm smile that made my blood boil. _"Maybe you're cold, but you're so warm inside."_

Her voice carried the melody perfectly, melancholy and longing, yet sultry and somewhat teasing. The most mesmerizing thing I had ever heard. The thought of her body in that shallow grave hit me, and it made my eyes start to tear up. I swallowed hard, struggling to choke back my emotion. As her song drew to a close, she stood to an audience that exploded with cheers, a few men wolf whistling at her.

The Courier gave a curtsy, waving to everyone before her eye locked on me one last time. Her hair was gently pushed back into place, and then she was strutting offstage and up to the bar. Tommy Torini took to the stage to introduce the next act, but I was out of my seat and following "Lana" up to the bar. There was already a well dressed man to her left, offering her a drink.

I came up on her right side, giving the man a long look and trying to determine if she seemed interested or not. Her voice was low and smooth, completely unlike when she had been screaming and begging for her life. My heart was so full of guilt and regret, my stomach twisting sharply.

"I'm really not interested right now, darling, maybe another time." She gave the man a winning smile and he gave her a defeated look as he scooped up the drink he offered her and walked away. As he picked up the glass however, I noticed it was fizzier than it should have been.

"Good thing you didn't take that." I blurted out the words without much thought, and she looked over at me in shock, like she didn't see me sit down next to her. I waited for the recognition to flash in her eye, but it never did.

Instead I was greeted with a warm smile, her gaze scanning my face and lingering on my lips for a moment. "And why is that?"

I felt my cheeks coloring a little. Did she seriously have no clue who I was? "It was fizzing an awful lot for whisky, I think he slipped something extra in there."

She looked away quickly, searching for the man but he was already out of sight. "Bastard. It's only my third night performing here, and he has come up to me after every performance making forced conversation."

"He got a name?"

The Courier gave me a bit of a grin. "Calls himself William, but I'm honestly not too worried about it. I dare him to try anything with me." That sultry voice became sharp and dangerous, and a little thrill went through me. I gave a nervous laugh, my skin felt like it was on fire. She seriously did not know who I was; unless she was playing nice because we were in public.

"So...I'm Carmen, but you can call me Honey if you'd like. Most people do, especially here in The Tops."

She smiled a little, her gaze lingering with mine. "Honey. That's cute. You can call me Lana, maybe we can get to know each other better. I'll be back here tomorrow, 9 o'clock."

My pulse was racing. It felt like she was flirting with me, but I was unsure. Maybe she was just being friendly, but either way it felt like I was sweating bullets. "How about we have a drink?"

Her voice was kind, but firm. "Maybe tomorrow, I'm going to head back up to my room tonight." It was odd, she seemed to be in a hurry to leave. Part of me was worried that it was something I had done, or if she did remember me and was fleeing.

My heart ached with all of the different emotions that I was dealing with. Regret, shame, yet there was also excitement and curiosity. Before I knew it, The Courier was strutting off and away from me, leaving me alone with the bartender, and my thoughts.

4

My room at The Tops was nothing luxurious, but it was not like some of the shitholes that I used to flop in. It was actually clean, for the most part. As clean as post-war shit could get anyway. Tonight had been eventful, tips were plenty, I nearly got roofied, and some cute Spanish girl was chatting me up. She seemed awfully nervous for some reason, which I couldn't quite find any explanation behind. The conversation had been pleasant enough, and I was a little more welcoming than usual. I couldn't wait to get back to my room though, I needed to rest and rejuvenate.

Locking my door behind me, I toed my way out of my heels and sighed loudly as I made my way into the bathroom. I quickly unzipped my dress and tossed it out and into my bedroom. My muscles were starting to ache a little, and my head had begun to throb. The Jet I had taken earlier was wearing off, and I was coming down hard.

The elbow length gloves soon joined my dress in my bedroom, as did my underclothes. I looked at myself in the mirror with disgust as I pulled back my unnaturally blonde hair into a messy ponytail. My left eye was covered with my hair whenever I performed for a reason. I had a massive scar above my eyebrow there, from Benny's pistol, and my once blue eye was now almost black. Doc Mitchell said the bullet had damaged some nerves in my eye, and it couldn't focus very well anymore. The blackness was from my pupil, and it made my vision kind of blurry and out of focus, like I had on someone else's glasses. According to the doc, I got off easy, considering the alternatives were being dead or completely blind.

However, it hadn't exactly done much for my self esteem. As if not remembering nearly my entire life was bad enough, I was filled with a burning self loathing. Everyone saw a confident siren onstage, but in all reality I was an absolute mess. As my mismatched eyes scanned body in the mirror, I looked at the various scars that spanned my fair skin, my inner elbow bruised with the wounds of an addict. The Med-X needles that bit into my skin over and over had left their claim on me, and as I looked at them it caused my self loathing to spiral. My appearance led to hatred, the hatred led to the craving for drugs, and the drugs worsened the way I looked. It was a vicious cycle.

I turned on the water to the bath, watching the tub fill with mostly clean water. I slipped into it quietly with a sigh, feeling the hot water soothe my aching flesh. I watched the steam rising into the air for a moment before I slowly sank under the water, letting it wash away my makeup, washing away "Lana Leigh." The stage name had been clever. Surely if Benny was about, he would take no suspicion of this persona I had created. I was just another act at the Aces Theater, a dumb blonde songstress.

I emerged from the water, pulling air into my lungs and reclining, resting my head on the edge of the tub. The Spanish girl crept into my mind. Honey. With her golden hair and skin, I could see how she earned the nickname. I smiled a little to myself as I thought of her. She was pretty, and kind; it would make my night if she came to see my show tomorrow.

I gave myself a quick scrub before pulling the plug out of the worn tub and climbing out. Quickly drying off, I wrapped my hair up in a towel and made my way into my bedroom. Pulling open my dresser, I drew out my small pink nightie and my little black bag.

A few moments later I was reclining in my bed and preparing my bedtime dose of Med-X. The syringe was at my forearm, preparing to give it's cold bite into my skin and fill my veins with bliss, when I heard someone knocking at my door.

My heart skipped a beat and I nearly dropped the damn thing on the floor. "God fucking damn it." I grumbled to myself as I shrugged on my light blue bathrobe to hide my arms and my scantily clad body.

The annoyance slammed at my door again, louder this time, and I fought the urge to open it and stick a pistol in the intruders face. This was my private time, my time to get a fix; and when that was interrupted, I wasn't very pleasant. "Hold on a fucking minute!"

Strutting angrily through my little living area, I snatched my 9mm off the bar and nearly knocked over my bottles of absinthe. Wrenching open the door with a growl, I peered out into the hallway, half expecting to see Swank or even Honey, but there was no one there.

Looking about in confusion, there was no sign of life in the hallway at all, just the buzzing of a flickering light. Something caught my eye, and I looked down to see something in the middle of the hall a short distance from my door.

Cautiously, I stepped out, the plush carpet meeting my cold feet. Stepping a bit closer, I saw that it was a bird. A songbird, with its neck snapped. My blood ran cold and a spike of sheer panic blanched in my heart. I nearly dropped my pistol, backing quickly into my room and slamming the door.

My chest heaving, I turned the deadbolt and stood there on shaking legs for a sold minute. "What the fuck…"

I made my way back towards my bedroom with my pistol tightly in my grip, my stomach heaving as I grabbed one of the absinthe bottles. My bedroom door was quickly locked behind me, and I sat on my bed with my knees to my chest. Pulling the cork out of the bottle, I knew I would not be getting any sleep tonight.


End file.
